“H—How—” she stammered. “How do you know about them?”
“Why are they here?”
She smirked. “I couldn’t have planned it better myself. The police will think you hurt them after all they’ve done to ruin your name. Did you know she was pregnant? Of course you did—that’s why you came here—to stop another Nichols from entering this world.”
His voice lowered as he walked closer. “Tell me if you’ve hurt them.”
“It depends.”
Tony glared.
“I don’t know,” she confessed.
“What the hell do you mean—you don’t know?”
Catherine shrugged. “We could check the video. I don’t know if they’ve decided to drink any of the water in the refrigerator. The room is quite warm and packing Claire’s things can be thirsty work.”
“Fuck’n sick! The police will take you away! You killed my grandfather for having a reaction to medication. He could’ve gotten out of jail and none of this would have ever happened. My father was right—in not trusting you! He was wrong too—my grandfather wasn’t crazy—you are!”
This time, Catherine attacked. Tony’s face stung as her open palm assaulted his cheek. Before he could form words, she was gone. He rushed after her, seeing her disappear behind a door in the corridor of his and Claire’s suite. Reaching for the handle, it didn’t move. He pounded on the wooden barrier and screamed her name. Within seconds, members of the shocked staff began to surround him.
“Mr. Rawlings!”
“Mr. Rawlings?”
Their surprised and questioning voices filled his hearing. Tony hoped Eric or Phil heard Catherine’s plan and were rescuing Emily and John. He continued screaming. Suddenly, smoke wafted from the opening below Catherine’s door.
Tony yelled, “Get out of the house and call the fire department!” At first, the staff didn’t move; finally, he yelled, “Now! Get out! Call for help!”
Everyone scattered.
His thoughts went from Catherine—to Sophia—to the Vandersols. He’d saved Catherine’s life, on more than one occasion—he wasn’t doing it again. As smoke billowed from below the door filling the corridor, Tony raced toward the backstairs.
Running toward the S.E Corridor, he went directly to Claire’s old suite. The lever wouldn’t budge. Cupping his hands against the door, he yelled, “Emily? John? Are you in there?”
Despite the commotion below, he heard nothing through the door. His heart sank until he heard a faint pounding against the door. He’d forgotten the room was soundproofed. There was a time that had been necessary. Reaching for the electronic release, Tony prayed it still worked. What seemed like an eternity later, he heard the once familiar beep. Grasping the lever once again, he pushed the door open to find his brother and sister-in-law laying upon the ground.
John looked up. “How? How are you here? Did you do this? You’re sick!”
Tony shook his head. “We don’t have time. No, I didn’t!” He pointed to Emily with her face down. “Is she all right?”
John shook his head. “You’re going to jail for this!”
“We’ll argue later—is she all right?”
“Yes—we’re trying to avoid the smoke.”
John was right; the smoke whirled in gray waves near the ceiling. Tony and John both helped Emily to her feet as water began to rain from the sprinkler system. Within seconds, they were all soaked. Leaving Claire’s old suite, Tony looked both directions down the long corridor. As smoke and water limited their visibility, Emily clung to John’s arm with her other hand protectively covering her mouth and nose.
“John, listen to me”—Tony screamed above the whoosh of sprinklers—“Go right—in about thirty feet, you’ll find the backstairs—when you reach the ground floor—go right again. There’s a door that opens to the kitchen. From there, you’ll be able to get out into the backyard.”
John reached for Tony. “You’re coming with us. You can’t stay up here.”
“Just go. There’s another person I need to find.”
“Oh God! Claire?”
Tony shook his head. “No, Claire’s safe. She isn’t here.” He could tell John was debating their next move. “Go! Get Emily and your baby out of this smoke!”
John didn’t argue. Tony stood, momentarily watching his brother and sister-in-law disappear into the gray haze. Wiping the water from his eyes, he headed the other direction toward the grand staircase. Each room he passed, he opened in hopes of finding Sophia.
As he neared the front stairs, he considered the southwest corridor when he stopped dead in his tracks. Straining his ears, Tony listened again. Suddenly, his world crashed in around him. With all his might and his shoes slipping on the wet marble, he ran toward the voices.
Only moments earlier…
The feeling of foreboding that Claire had experienced ever since she learned they were coming back to Iowa, was too strong to deny. Phil had told her to trust her instincts and her instincts told her that they should’ve stayed in paradise—but her heart wouldn’t allow Tony to travel to the U.S. without her. Now, she knew why.
When Courtney received the call about Brent, Claire knew she needed to get to Tony. He’d told her to stay away from the estate, but she couldn’t. It wasn’t that she wanted to save Catherine from his wrath—she wanted to save Tony from the consequences of his possible actions. She knew if he learned about the Rawlings plane while with Catherine, he’d blame her—possibly rightfully so; nonetheless, Claire didn’t want Tony to do something else that he’d regret. He didn’t need another crime added to his list.
As Claire entered the gates of the estate, she glanced in the rear-view mirror. Nichol was peacefully sleeping in the car seat. She should’ve left her with Courtney; but Courtney was too distraught to watch over their daughter. Besides, Claire’s plan was simple—find Tony, Emily, and John and get them out of the house. She could’ve called, but then she’d have had to tell him about the plane crash. Claire didn’t want to do that over the phone. As she parked the car in front of the house, she thought about Phil and Eric, where were they?
Looking up at the stately home, she pushed away the onslaught of memories, and straightened her stance. This was their home—Nichol’s home, and Claire wanted it back. Fury filled her chest as she thought about Catherine. The woman’s plan had worked successfully to force both her and Tony into hiding. Suddenly, Claire was tired of running, tired of revenge, and tired of the fight. Lifting Nichol from the car seat, Claire declared, “Look, sweetie, this is your house. This is all yours, and your mommy will not let that mean woman have it a second longer.”
Yes, she wanted to get Tony out, and she wanted to get Emily and John out, yet what Claire wanted more than anything, was to get Catherine out—out of the house—and out of their lives. Damn it! I’m Mrs. Anthony Rawlings, and I’ve had enough. No one is taking this away from our daughter!
Her mind focused like never before, making each step toward the grand doors more determined.
To Claire’s surprise, when she depressed the lever and pushed forward, the doors opened without hesitation. Looking around the empty foyer, she heard voices coming from the corridor of Tony’s office. As she walked quietly down the hallway, the voices grew in volume. She wasn’t ready to confront the entire staff, so when she heard footsteps coming her direction, she opened the door to Tony’s office and slid inside. Immediately, the smell of smoke filled her senses. Even the room appeared to be dimming with a gray haze.
This wasn’t right—this house was a fortress. She had difficulty comprehending that there could possibly be a fire, but the undeniable burning in her lungs confirmed her fear. Claire’s mind spun between the need to get Nichol out and the desire to assure Tony’s safety. “Oh, my God, where’s your daddy?” she said aloud.